


The Call of Art - The Call of Man

by Sapphy



Series: Tumblr Fics [16]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftercare, Breathplay, Cock & Ball Torture, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Painplay, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, Sadism, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Fingering, brief mentions of past child abuse, brief mentions of past unsafe sex, kinky sex is John's religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy
Summary: Just once, John Constantine got everything he wanted





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarCityRebels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCityRebels/gifts).



> The title is from the Poetess of Punk herself, Patti Smith. It comes from her song The Dream of Constantine, which is nothing to do with Johnny C and everything to do with renaissance Italian art, but just seemed fitting. I'm bad at naming fics.
> 
> This is an experiment in keeping John to one continuity, which I'm generally terrible at, and I think it works reasonably well. For anyone not up on Nu52 John canon, Roni was a girlfriend of John's during his Mucous Membrane days who met a pretty horrible end, and Georgie was her best friend.
> 
> It hasn't been established for definite how old John is in Nu52, but making him have been a kid in the 80s ties up with how old he looks, and drops his childhood right slap bang in the middle of the miner's strike.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of really fucked up shit John has done in the name of orgasms in the past and his childhood and the way that childhood has shaped his sexuality.

I’m fucking freezing. The blanket I’ve got is stiff as a board and feels like wire wool against my hands. The sofa cushions are cold and lumpy against my back. I’ve slept in worse places, but I was usually coming down from drugs or sex. It’s amazing what becomes bearable with the tail end of a high still burning in your blood.

I’d been prepared for New York to be weird, it’s full of bloody Yanks after all, but I hadn’t prepared for the cold. I’ve slept rough plenty and survived it, but not usually sober, and even in January London’s never this cold.

(Liverpool was, in those long days after we ran out of stuff to burn and the strikes seemed like they’d go on forever. Me and Cheryl had been too little to really know what dad was fighting for, just that we were cold and hungry. I remember Cheryl crying with relief when the line broke and dad was finally forced onto the dole. Even with dad drinking most of the money, the meagre handouts Thatcher was prepared to give had been better than those empty days when there was no coal for the fire or food in the cupboards).

It’s been snowing on and off for a few weeks now, the brief thaws lasting just enough to ensure the snowmelt turns to black ice when the weather turns again. At first I liked it. Even in a city snow looks pretty, and my leather jacket is big and worn enough to fit over the ancient ratty jumper Cheryl knitted for me when I was sixteen. It’s half unravelled now, but it’s still cosy. It’d been the last Christmas present she gave me before I left for London.

The other good thing about the weather is that it gives me an excuse to stand that bit closer to Nick and Zee. It’s fucking pathetic, the sort of childish fantasy I should have grown out of a decade ago, but I’m not liar enough to pretend I don’t get a kick out of knowing people are mistaking me for one of them. A group of yobos threw empty cans at me and Nick when we were waiting for Zee outside the theatre last week, called us faggots, and I was so pleased that they thought I was Nick’s boyfriend I just fucking grinned at them like an idiot. Nick must have thought I’d lost my mind.

I only realised how much I actually hate the cold weather when the heater in Nick and Zee’s flat died. They’ve been letting me crash on their sofa, which was pretty good until the flat turned into a fucking freezer. I’m sleeping in my jacket, and I only took my boots of because it’s not my sofa and Cheryl taught me some fucking manners.

God, I miss Gary. It’s stupid, Gary was born a twat and he hasn’t improved with keeping, but he’s always so _warm_. The drugs probably, or maybe he just runs hot. We never shared a bed before London, never really touched at all. But I was fucking glad to have him that first year. My own personal heater, always toasty warm no matter how run down the squat. It got unbearable in summer; in that first winter it had been the best fucking thing. More than once I let him screw me just so’s I’d have something warm to put my feet on. I don’t think he ever worked out the pattern, poor sod.

That’s what I want now. Someone warm who’ll let me leach off their body heat. If this was a story, Zee would appear now and invite me to share a bed with her and Nick. If it was a dirty story it wouldn’t stop there.

But that’s not going to happen. Nick and Zee don’t want or need me. I’m fucking lucky they let me hang around at all. They’ve got real magic, and enough legal money to cover their vices, and each other. Last thing they need is some scruffy Scouse punk with a hard on for beautiful magicians, a truckload of truly fucked up kinks and what Georgie described once as “just enough magic to get you into trouble, but not enough to get back out of it.”

They’ve got no reason to even talk to me, and yet here I am, living with them, getting to spend every day watching them, and learning from them, and drinking with them. It’s more than I ever deserved, so of course I want more. I’ve never been able to resist pushing my luck, even though it never ends well for me. Sooner or later I’m going to lose this. I’ll make a drunken pass at one of them, or they’ll figure out just how fucking broken I am, or something, and then I’ll fucking regret not appreciating it while I had it.

Shit, I’m tired. I always get maudlin when I’m tired. I can lie to everyone, including myself, but not in moments like this, when I’m exhausted and lonely and feeling sorry for myself.

I hear floorboards creaking, soft footsteps, and I poke my head out of the blankets to find Zee standing over me. She’s wearing one of those long white nighties I last saw in a Hammer horror flick, her hair loose, moonlight turning her into something more than human. She looks unreal, like one of those beautiful female ghosts the Americans seem so keen on, like she’s here to kill me for my sins, drag me down to hell.

Because I’m a fucking pervert I can’t help imaging her hands around my throat, those long black nails digging into my skin, and I pray she doesn’t notice me flush with sudden arousal.

“Y’a’right luv?” Tiredness is thickening my accent, so that even to my ears it comes out sounding almost incomprehensively scouse.

“We’re cold in bed,” she says, “so you must be frozen. Come and share body heat?”

I must have dozed off after all. Still it’s a nice dream as my dreams go, so I’m prepared to play along.

“S’that a proposition?”

Zee rolls her eyes at me. “It’s good sense, which would explain why you don’t recognise it. Hurry up, and bring the blanket, I’m freezing my tits off!”

Not a dream then. Or at least, not the kind that isn’t real. “Y’sure this isn’t the start of a really good sex dream?” I ask her, deflecting with the truth. I force myself to sit up, wincing when my bare feet touch freezing floorboards.

“If I proposition you, John Constantine, it won’t be at four in the morning when it’s so cold the mice are freezing to death.” (We found the thing under the sink that morning. It had been trying to hibernate in a hole in the kitchen unit, but the cold had got to it. It had been adorably pathetic, and Zee’s eyes had looked suspiciously shiny when she threw it in the trash.)

“Fair point. Can’t promise I’ll be much good in the body heat department though. I don’t think I’ve got any left.”

Zee laughs. “I know what you mean. I haven’t been this cold since I was a kid sitting in empty theatres while dad rehearsed.”

“A’haven’t been so cold since the miner’s strike,” I tell her, hugging the horrible scratchy blanket around myself and following her into the bedroom. “We burnt everything we could for fuel that winter. The piano lasted a week.” I don’t normally talk about Liverpool, not even with Gaz, but it’s better than talking about how fucking pathetically excited I am about this, how I don’t need sex if I just get a chance to be near them.

Nick’s waiting, sitting half up in bed. The blankets have slid down and I can see his nipples rock hard under his thin tee-shirt. His lips are red and chapped from cold, the bruise on his cheekbone from last Sunday’s bar fight standing out vivid in the dark. He looks fucking gorgeous, and there’s no way tonight isn’t going to end with me embarrassing myself and getting kicked out. Still worth it.

Zee lifts up the edge of the covers, gesturing me to get in, and I realise with a sudden shock of something that’s either arousal or terror (I’ve never been great at telling the difference, which probably explains a fucking lot about my sex life) that they want me in the middle, sandwiched between the two of them.

I’d argue, but there’s no way of doing that that won’t just get really awkward, really fast, so I shrug off my jacket and crawl in. The bed has that warm human sleep smell, mixed with Nick’s aftershave and Zee’s perfume and soap and a slight hint of stale sex, and just breathing it in makes my cock twitch in my jeans.

Zee slides in beside me, her skin cold where I can feel it though the holes in my jumper. It’s a normal double bed, too small for three, and we’re pressed close, no way to avoid touching either of them.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Nick says, his voice low and sleep rough and so fucking hot I have to close my eyes and just breath for a moment to keep from embarrassing myself completely.

“You just wanna get me naked,” I tell him, reaching under the covers to unbutton my jeans and wriggle out of them, kicking them out of the foot of the bed. My boxers are old and worn, but they haven’t got any noticeable holes and I’m pretty sure the button still works so they should be okay.

Taking my jumper off means sticking my arms out of the covers, and I can’t help sucking in a breath at the cold, already accustomed to the comforting warmth of the bed. I’d meant to keep my vest on, match Nick, but it gets tangled in my jumper and I’m in too much of a hurry to get back into the warmth to fix it, so I end up topless and horribly aware that I’m skinny and scarred and more than a little dirty. No hot water means no showers, so we’re all in the same boat, except Zee who showers at the theater, but it doesn’t make me feel any better out it.

“Much better,” Zee says, catching my shoulder and pulling me back down into the bed none too gently. She’s stronger than she looks, and I weight nothing. Not that I mind. I’ve never objected to being manhandled by a beautiful woman.

She arranges me on the bed like I’m a doll, moving my arms to where she wants them, and then snuggling up close. I can feel her breasts, soft against my side underneath her nightie.

“Y’comfy?” I ask her. It was meant to be teasing, and I wince at the tender tone it comes out in.

“Very,” she says from somewhere near my ear. Her head is resting on my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. “Nick, get down here.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says with a grin, and tucks himself in close, one hand coming to rest, fingers spread, right in the centre of my chest. It feels like ownership, like he’s staking a claim, and I really really hope neither of them notice how turned on I am by this.

I close my eyes against the half light of an urban night and focus on the way they feel, Zee soft and warm, Nick hard (although not like that, not that I can feel) and still a little tense. Zee’s head heavy on my shoulder, Nick’s hand on my chest, pinning me.

“We were reminiscing about cold childhoods,” Zee says, her breath tickling against the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder. “When’s the last time you were this cold?”

“Four, no, five years ago,” Nick says, without hesitation. “When I first moved to New York. Spent all my money on the travel, and I didn’t have anything left for rent. I ended up in an okay squat, decent people and roof over my head, but that January… I remember thinking that I was gonna freeze to death more than once.”

Zee makes a soft noise and reaches out to cover Nick’s hand with her own, and the movement has everything to do with how in love they are, and nothing whatsoever to do with me, but I can’t help the way it warms me, having their hands resting over my heart.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Nick says, with only slightly forced cheer. He pulls his hand away from Zee’s, brushing over one of my nipples, hard from the cold. I’m not especially sensitive there but I still bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moving or making a sound. “Motivated me to finally learn to conjure a decent fireball.”

“I never got the hang of them,” I tell him. It was one of the first big magics I ever tried, and I’d nearly killed myself and Roni doing it.

“I set my only blanket on fire practising,” Nick admits with something more like a real smile in his voice. “Worth it.”

“I hate being cold,” Zee says with feeling, moving closer to me and hooking her leg over mine so she can press her icy toes against my skin. Her knee just barely misses brushing my balls and it’s only the warm weight of Nick’s hand that keeps me from thrusting against her.

I’m rock hard, and the room isn’t dark enough or the blankets heavy enough to hide anything. I do my best to memorise how this feels, warm and safe and like I belong, so at least I’ll have the memory to keep me warm when they kick me out.

Zee’s hand comes up to rest by Nick’s, a little higher, so the tips of her black-painted nails brush against the sensitive skin of my throat, and I bite my lip hard enough to really hurt but it still isn’t enough to keep in the whimper that forces its way out of my throat at the sensation. I’ve been dreaming about those nails, about the kind of damage they could do, since the first time I saw her.

“John?” she asks, worried. She probably thinks she’s triggered off some bad association, stepped on one of my legion of sore spots, and I should let her keep thinking that. Should, but won’t, because this is my one chance, and I’m going to lose this anyway when one of them noticed how I’m tenting the blankets so I might as well chance it.

“Stepping on a couple of my kinks there, Zee,” I tell her, pleased with how calm I keep my voice.

“Oh,” she breathes, and she sounds pleased, but maybe I’m just projecting. But then she’s sitting up a little to look at Nick and ask, “Is he hard?”

“Probably, little pervert,” Nick says, his tone somewhere between fond and mocking, and I’ve been trying to train myself out of that horribly unhealthy humiliation kink, but hearing them talk about me like I’m not even here, like I’m not listening to them, /fuck/. I’m pretty sure they just undid all my hard work with a couple of cruel words.

And then Nick’s hand is on my cock, grabbing me through my boxers, squeezing hard enough to be painful, and there’s no point pretending I’m not getting off on that, he can feel exactly how much I am, so I don’t bother to bite back the moan.

Zee smacks Nick’s arm, the movement hampered by the blankets. “Be nice. John’s going to think you don’t want him here.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he knows exactly how much I want him here,” Nick says with a smirk, still holding my cock tight enough to hurt, and rolls his hips, and holy god that is Nick Necro’s erection rubbing against my hip. I’d be certain this was an unusually nice dream, except that I don’t think even my brain is fucked up enough to come up with the dull throbbing pain from my abused tackle, or the distant almost motherly way Zee is talking about me.

“Well that’s even worse. You’ll give him a complex.”

“Trust me,” I gasp out, “that damage was done long before I met either of you. Fuck Nick, that hurts!”

“You complaining?” Nick asks, not releasing his grip on me in the slightest.

“No! Christ no.” CBT isn’t my usual style, but it’s Nick, Nick’s calloused hands and cruel smile and that slightly aggressive light in his eyes when he looks at me that I’m pretty sure now has everything to do with how well me and Zee get along. It’s Nick, the brilliant cruel funny bastard I’ve been half in love with since the first time I saw the way he looks at Zee, and I’d be happy for him to keep hurting me like that pretty much indefinitely if it means I get to be close to him like this. 

Zee shivers slightly, her hand clenching just enough to drag her nails down my throat, gentle enough to be a tease. I’m pretty sure it’s involuntary, and that’s hot enough to make me groan and shove up into Nick’s agonisingly tight grip.

“Nicky, let him go,” Zee says gently, and I bite back my whimper at the loss of those warm rough hands, because it’s what Zee wants, and I’d walk across broken glass to please her. “If we’re doing this, there’s some things I need to say, and I need John to actually be capable of listening.”

Nick huffs out a breath that could be amused or annoyed, but he lets go, moving his hand up to rest on my hip, heavy and possessive, his arm pinning my pelvis to the bed. It’s at least as hot as the ball-crushing, but I’m perfectly capable of listening to someone as brilliant as Zee even in the middle of hardcore painplay, so can I ignore it for now, focus on her.

“You paying attention?” she asks, and I nod. “Good. This… this isn’t something we do. This isn’t a thing for us. We don’t share. Or, we never have before. But we want you John. We both want you. Not just tonight, but… We want you in our lives. In our bed. If that’s something you want as well.”

I nod, mouth too dry to speak. This is… it’s everything I dreamed of and never believed I could have.

“Okay, good. That’s good.” She smiles at me, as beautiful and blinding as looking at the sun, and I don’t understand how this can be real, because I don’t deserve this. And I hadn’t deserved my childhood either, because however much of a brat I was, I’d still been a kid, but sometimes I think maybe that was karmic backwash from Newcastle, seeping along my personal timeline in both directions, ensuring I suffer for what I did. At no point have I done anything to deserve Zatanna smiling at me like that, or Nick’s hand warm and heavy and comforting on my hip.

I smile back, because what else can I do? I don’t deserve this, but I’m too selfish to turn it down.

“Now as for the sex, you may have noticed Nick is into the rougher stuff.”

“I noticed,” I say with feeling. My balls ache and my cock throbs from their bruising treatment.

“And I notice you didn’t seem to object,” Zee says. “I assume that’s a thing for you?”

I can’t help laughing a little, because that’s such a nice normal way of describe my fucked the hell up death-wish kinks. “Yeah. Pain is a thing for me.”

“Thought so,” Nick says smugly. “Had you pegged for a masochist from the first time we met.”

I’d pegged him as a sadist long before he knew I existed, but I don’t say so. I try not to bring up the way I’d watched them before we spoke, the borderline stalking that started as casing a mark and developed into obsession.

“You can have me pegged anyway you like,” I tell him, and turn to wink at Zee. She seems like the kind of girl to be into pegging, and I do so love a woman with a strap-on. Thank you, Roni, for giving me my only half-way healthy kink.

“Not tonight,” she says, smiling back at me, warm and affectionate and a little bit dirty. “I’m not getting out of bed to get the harness, not when I’m only just warming up again.”

“We’re not doing anything that requires any of us to get out of this bed,” Nick declares. “I’m actually willing to forgo the sex if we have to, just so no one has to get up again.”

“Oh I don’t think we need go that far,” Zee says with a laugh. “Plenty we can do without moving. I even remembered to put baby wipes in the lube drawer for clean up.”

“Clever,” I say, my mind reeling at the idea that they’d planned this, they’d thought about this, about me. “Does that mean the actual sex can start now? Because Nick started something there, and I’d like it if he finished it.”

“Slow down,” Zee says with a laugh. “And tell me your limits.”

“All of them?” I ask. It’s a worryingly short list, and the things that are on there… Zee probably doesn’t want to know about stuff like how many times I can take someone telling me I’m worthless during sex before it kills my hard on. Hell, I wish _I_ didn’t know that.

“I mean things we should avoid, things not to say or do,” she explains. “Don’t want to trigger off any negative associations when we’re supposed to be having fun.”

My heart sinks a little at how obvious I must have been about the fact that I’m monumentally damaged goods, but at least she’s not being a prick about it.

“Mind my arms,” I say at last. “The scars there. You can touch, just… be careful.”

“We can do that,” Nick says, his hand on my hip tightening a little. “Anything else?”

“I…” But I can make myself say this, for them, even if I’ve never managed to put it into words before in anything that wasn’t a minor drunken breakdown on Chas’ couch. “Be careful with name-calling. I don’t hate it, mostly I like it, but sometimes… Don’t tell me I’m worthless, or broken. Or at least don’t do it during sex if you want me to keep it up.” I can’t exactly expect the words to never come up, but at least I can hopefully keep them on hold until the inevitable messy break up.

“John,” Zee breathes, horror and pity and everything I don’t want to hear in her tone. At least she doesn’t sound disgusted. I ignore her, for the first and hopefully the last time, and plough on.

“No blindfolds. No bruising over organs. No broken bones. Punches I can take, but don’t kick me.”

Nick sucks in a breath. “That’s getting a little hardcore for my tastes there Johnny-boy,” he says, and I sigh with relief. I’d have taken it, for them I’d have taken it, but it’s nice to know that’s not required.

“I don’t do pain,” Zee says, and at first I think it’s a response to my fucked-up little list, but then I realise this is her own list, and I relax. I thought it was just me, that she thought I was too broken to touch without a list of my weak spots. It’s different if they’re doing it too. “I don’t mind if you and Nick want to play with it, as long as everyone’s having fun, but I don’t give or receive pain. Not my thing.”

I try not to let my disappointment show, but I must fail, because Nick says, “I know, it’s a tragedy. Those nails, and the corsets. She was born to be a domme.”

“Shut up asshole,” she says, smiling at him. “Anyway you wouldn’t want the competition.” Nick just grins. “I don’t call anyone daddy during sex. Not ever. I can and will do magic in bed, so say now if that’s a problem.”

I shake my head quickly. I was in love with her magic before I even met her. I’m never going to object to her using it.

“I don’t like pet-names. Not generic ones. Darling, sweetheart, things like that. I’ve been catcalled too much to ever find them romantic.”

I want to find every man that ever disrespected her like that, and kick their heads in. (Six, seven years ago, I’d have been one of them, but then I already knew I deserved a good kicking.)

“Don’t touch my neck, don’t hit me, I inflict pain, I don’t take it,” Nick says all in a rush, like he’s trying to get the words out before he loses his bottle. I’ve never heard him nervous like this before, and not for the first time I wonder what his childhood was like. Sometimes I think I recognise some of the less healthy parts of his psyche. “I’m no one’s sub, not ever. Not even Zee’s.”

“Wouldn’t want you to be,” Zee says, touching his hand gently where it still rests on my hip, her arm brushing against my once again mostly soft cock. “John, you okay with all that?”

I nod. I’ve never had sex that started like this, even with the people who wanted to tie me up and spank me. It’s… nice. Comforting. I like knowing before we start how to avoid hurting them.

“Good boy,” she says, sending shivers of surprised pleasure down my spine, and then she kisses me.

It’s everything and nothing like I’ve imagined. It’s soft, and slow, and a little bit demanding, and that’s all things I expected. But I could never have predicted the way she would taste, like black coffee and toothpaste and the microwave burritos we’d had for supper. Couldn’t have predicted how her hand would be so tender where it cupped my face, like I was something precious.

The fact that it takes about thirty seconds for me to be whimpering like she’s hurting me and considering begging her to let me taste her, well, that’s entirely predictable.  
When she finally pulls back my lips feel plump and warm with blood, and I can smell her cunt, musky and sweet.

“My turn,” Nick growls, grabbing my chin none too gently and forcing me to face him.

The kiss is hard and controlling, sharp teeth nipping at my kiss-swollen lips and then his tongue fucking into my mouth hard enough to make me clench on nothing and thinking longingly of the contents of Judith’s bottom drawer. (I never got to play with most of it, but I had plenty of time to fantasise about it in Ravenscar.) It’s the sort of brutal kiss that is unmistakably the beginning of something more serious, and I can’t keep from shuddering with the force of my arousal.

I don’t bother to hold back the disappointed whimper that forces itself out of my throat when he pulls away, but it quickly turns into a groan when his hand comes up to rest on my neck, just heavy enough to be a threat.

“Don’t do that unless you’re going to follow through,” I warn him, because even just that hint of pressure is enough to make me /want/. “I don’t like being teased.”

“You know,” Nick says, applying just enough pressure that it could maybe have passed for an accident if I couldn’t see the way he licks his lips as he does it, “I’m totally unsurprised you have lethal kinks.”

I laugh through the force of my arousal. “You think this one is bad…” Actually, this is the most objectively dangerous of my kinks. I don’t object to a bit of bloodletting, but it’s never going to be first on my list, not like getting choked. It’s still not the worst of the things I’ll beg for though, because it only damages my body and the worst of them, the ones I can trace clearly back to my childhood, they risk breaking my mind and soul every single time.

Nick backs off a little, hand moving to rest on my sternum. “It’s something I’ve played with,” he says, sounding thoughtful, “but not exactly a kink. Some other time though, when you really need it…”

I don’t says ‘that’s always’ even though the words line themselves up automatically in my head. It’s not exactly true, and I don’t want to pressure either of them into anything, even though I don’t really think I could. My kinks are fucked up beyond belief, and I don’t expect either of them to deal with that.

“So what’re your kinks?” I ask instead, sitting up a little so I feel less at their mercy, making sure I make eye contact with Zee so she knows the question is for both of them.

“Zee wants to dress you up in some of her clothes,” Nick says, grinning at his lover. “What was if you said Zee? Pink satin and a corset laced tight enough that I could get my hands around his waist?”

My cock twitches at the image, the breathplay inherent in the idea appealing more than the cross-dressing. Though I’ve no doubt I could quickly learn to love that too, if it always makes Zee blush like that.

“The corset was entirely your idea,” Zee protests. “I just want to put him in lingerie and lipstick and tell him what a pretty girl he is. You’re the one that wants to make sure he can’t breathe while I’m doing it.”

I groan, rolling my hips and clenching on nothing. I want that, I want to be their fetish, want to know I’m giving them everything they want. I’ve never been into gender play, but I spent most of my teens in make-up and I’ve worn knickers before, usually Roni’s after a night out. (And now isn’t the time to think about how much I used to get off on that, because it had nothing to do with dressing like a girl and everything to do with having that kind of intimacy with a woman who died because of me.)

“I want to tie you to the back of the door and know you’re watching and helpless while Zee rides me,” Nick adds, and I already know how badly that would probably go, how quickly it would step on all my issues, but I nod anyway because now I’ve got a taste of this I’ll do anything to keep having it.

“What about you?” Zee asks, her hand curling possessively on my hip, making me shiver with need. I can still smell her and I’m trying not to let the want make me fuck-stupid.  
“Everything,” I say, a little too raw, a little too honest. “Anything.”

She laughs low and soft, and shifts close enough that I can feel her hot and slick against my thigh. I wonder briefly if she wants me to shave my legs, and let myself have the image of her doing it for me. “There must be something you’ve been fantasising about,” she teases, fond and gentle in a way I don’t know how to deal with. I can’t remember the last time someone sounded like that when they talked to me, whether anyone ever has. Even the people who loved me most, Gaz and Roni and Cheryl, mostly sounded irritated or amused. “You been watching us enough.”

I think of all the things I could say, that I want her to fuck me because I don’t know if I trust myself not to hurt her, that I want Nick to stub out his horrible clove cigarettes on my neck, that I want both of them to use me until I forget anything but how to please them. Instead I say, rough and pained and far too honest, “I was mostly dreaming about being close to you. Being allowed to hold you, and kiss you, and just be with you. Both of you.”

Zee makes a soft noise that I can’t quite place and kisses me, a soft press of her lips to the tender skin just below my eye. “I want that too,” she promises, her voice low and sure. “And so does Nick, even though he’s too emotionally constipated to admit it.”

“Right now I mostly want to come,” Nick says, sounding somewhat offended at being outed as a secret romantic.

“Just a warning,” Zee says with a laugh, “Nick is absolutely useless once he’s come, so it’s best to make him get you off first unless you want to finish the job yourself.”  
“That’s what you’ve got me for now,” I says, feeling daring and exposed.

Zee makes a noise that I can only describe as a purr, pushing her cunt against my leg in a way that makes my cock _ache_. “So I do. Well maybe with two of you working together you’ll actually be able to keep up with me.”

Nick laughs. “Never, Princess. We’re mere mortals.”

Zee sighs. “Well I suppose that’s what the contents of my bottom drawer is for.”

I can’t help the small noise I make, and Zee turns to stare at me, apparently fascinated by my perversions. “Women with sex toys,” I tell her. “It’s a thing.”

She laughs. “An excellent thing. Just how desperate are you for me to fuck you?”

“Enough that talking about it counts as a tease,” I say, ignoring how empty I feel. Getting fucked isn’t usually top of my list, but I love a woman with a strap on and I’d known from the first moment I saw Zee that she’d be fantastic at it. “Right now I’d rather taste you though.”

Zee purrs and rolls her hips. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth for a long time,” she says, smiling sharp and hot. “But anything that requires any of us to move isn’t the best idea. Nothing kills the mood like chattering teeth. How good are you with your hands?”

“I’ve never had any complaints.” Not since Roni, who believed firmly that no woman should ever fake an orgasm, spent a week teaching me exactly how to get her off that way.

“And how, exactly, do you want Nick to hurt you?”

I think of the tiny pink marks that litter my arms, and these days, my chest and stomach. I think of the matching pair of scars carved into the hollows of my hip bones. The ragged line on my back from when I’d volunteered to be a guinea pig for Georgie’s first experiments with the whip. The way the blackness on the other side of oxygen deprivation is so much warmer than any other kind of unconsciousness. I think of the disgusted horror I’ve seen in so many eyes – Roni, Gaz, Frank, Judith.

“You probably don’t want me to answer that,” I tell her. It’s as honest as I can bring myself to be right now.

“No,” Nick agrees, pressing up against me, his cock hard and hot against my hip. “But I do.”

“For right now, biting and a bit of CBT. We can try the harder stuff some other time.”

“You mean when I’m not watching?” Zee asks, and if I didn’t know better I’d almost think she sounded worried, but that’s ridiculous. People don’t worry about me, not like that.  
“I mean when it’s not too cold to do anything requiring effort,” I tell her, feeling daring as I press a quick kiss to her dark hair. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Zee, but you’re a big girl. If you want to watch Nick beat the shit out of me, you’re always welcome.”

“I might take you up on that,” she says, and sits up a little to grin at Nick. “Gotta make sure you’re treating our boy right.”

Nick grabs my cock and balls in one of his slightly oversized hands and squeezes, sudden and hard enough to make me arch right of the bed. I’ve no idea if I’m trying to get closer or get away, just that I’ve got to move. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Princess.”

She swats at him, the movement hampered by the blankets. “Let him go, he’s letting the cold air in.”

Nick does as he’s told and I let in a shuddering breath, slumping back against the bed, the sudden relief from pain leaving me feeling almost like I’ve just come, except that I’m still rock hard.

“I think the sex should happen right now,” I say, staring up at the white ceiling and trying to fight my breathing back to something vaguely resembling calm. “Sooner if possible.”

“That can be arranged,” Zee says. I can hear the smile in her voice, fond rather than mocking, and it makes something inside me warm, despite the freezing air. “Roll over.”

I roll onto my side, making Nick groan as the movement drags his cock along my hip to rest against my arse. He presses against me, one arm draped over my side, his fingers trailing abstract patterns against my happy trail. I can feel his heat sinking into me, warming me right down to my bones.

Zee shifts so that she’s facing me, and pushes her ankle between mine. The smooth skin of her legs feels like satin. She folds one arm under her own head, her elbow brushing against my forehead, and just gazes at me for a long moment, her dark eyes intense in the half dark of a city night.

After a moment, she brings her free hand up to cup my face, moving slowly and gently like she thinks I might break, eyes never leaving mine.

The kiss when it comes is soft, close mouthed and slow and so very careful. I kiss her back, tangling my fingers with Nick’s to keep from touching her and spoiling the perfect moment. There’s a lump in my throat and what would be fear if I wasn’t so completely certain in that moment that there was nothing I could do that would make her turn away from me. It doesn’t last beyond the end of the kiss, but for that moment I think I know what Anne-Marie feels when she prays.

I don’t want the moment to end, but when Zee pulls back it’s to say, “You can touch me, honey. I’m not going to break, promise.”

I know that’s true –Zee could face down the hoards of hell and a pissed of Broadway audience with equal aplomb – but it still feels daring to wiggle the arm I’ve been lying on free so I can stroke her hair.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, voice hoarse. It’s a shit thing to say – she hears it every day, usually from creeps, and it’s not like she doesn’t know how stunning she is – but it’s as close as I can get to the words I’m hoarding away in my heart. 

“She surely is,” Nick says, a hint of an accent I don’t the US well enough to place slipping into his accent, and Zee leans over me to kiss him too.

My arousal hadn’t dimmed one bit but it had lost some of its urgency when she was kissing me. Now comes back full force. They’re pressed close against me in front and behind, Zee’s nipples and Nick’s cock hard against me, hot skin and the scratch of Nick’s hair, and when Zee shifts to reach better, her thigh presses hard against the tender skin of my abused sack.

I can’t stop my hips from moving, rubbing up against the painful-good pressure, hissing out a breath at the jolt of sensation it sends through me, too much hurt to be pleasure except for how it’s everything I want.

Zee purrs into the kiss, and Nick shifts forward, his cock rubbing against my tailbone as he pushes me harder into Zee.

I’m panting open mouthed, making sharp little noises that sound exactly as desperate as I feel. My hips keep twitching however much I try and stay still and every movement sends another jolt of good-bad-fuck-please sensation through me, forcing out another noise.

“Fuck you sound hot,” Nick growls, shoving one hand into my hair and clenching hard enough that I’m forced to tip my head back towards him or risk ending up bald.

The kiss he takes is hot and hard, deep and more than a little crazy making. If kissing Zee is like a religious experience, kissing Nick is like making a deal with the devil – sweet and overwhelming enough that you give in even though you can feel the pain that’s coming.

This time it’s a bite, blunt teeth digging into my kiss-sensitive bottom lip hard enough that the noise I make is high and pained and desperate. The part of me that’s kept my stupid arse alive this long is thinking of tetanus shots, even as the rest of me is surrendering completely to whatever he wants to do to me.

He jerks himself back suddenly enough to be jarring, panting down at me and shuddering slightly. “Fuck I just want to keep biting,” he says, his voice soft enough that it’s almost a whimper. “Just want… Zee…”

He reaches out blindly, and she grabs his hand. “I’ve got you, Nick. I’m here. I won’t let you harm him.”

He tears his eyes away from me, and I think I can feel the effort that cost him and that thought stokes the fire Zee had lit in my chest. God I’m so fucking gone for them.

“I love you, Zee,” Nick says above me, leaning his forehead against Zee’s. He sounds as desperate and overwhelmed as I feel. “So fucking much.”

“I love you too,” she assures him. “Always. I’m not gonna let you fall too deep, Nicky. I promised, remember? We’re doing this, we’ve got him, and I’m not gonna let you go further than we all want, I promise.”

Nick stares at her for a long moment. I can’t make out his expression in the gloom, but I’d lay money on him looking every bit as love struck as I know I do in that moment. It’s just starting to really sink in how much they want me, how much they’ve planned for me. I have a place here, between them, just like I’ve been dreaming since the first night I saw them.

Zee shifts her leg between my own, reminding me with breath-taking force just how fucking hard I am. “You’ve got him nice and desperate for us,” she says to Nick, her voice teasing. “Now what’re you going to do about it?”

“Make him come so hard he screams for us,” Nick says, voice rough, and turns down to grin at me. His teeth gleam in the weak yellow light and I have to press my lips together to keep from begging him to bite me again. Fuck but he’s everything I thought demons were, back before I ever met one. I can’t help feeling humanity would be a whole lot more fucked if I’d been right.

He and Zee settle themselves back on the bed, Nick pressed against me, Zee a little way from me, her arm on the pillow and legs still tangled between mine our only points of contact.

We wriggle around a little, arranging ourselves so that we’ve all got one arm safely tucked under our heads or among the pillows and no-one’s being elbowed in the face, and then Zee leans in and runs her tongue over the tender skin of my swollen lips.

“Touch me,” she says, her voice soft and impossible to ignore.

I trail my free hand down the curves of her side, feeling her hot and sleek and alive beneath my fingers, then slide it round to cup one ridiculously perfect buttock.

Behind me Nick huffs out a breath that might be amused and mirrors my action, his hand sliding down my ribcage and cupping my hip for a moment before slipping between our bodies to squeeze my arse.

I gasp and copy him, groaning at the way Zee feels, soft and yielding and so fucking strong underneath.

Nick nips my earlobe gently, whispers “Good boy,” into my ear, his voice rough and turned on.

He slides his hand back to my hipbone, and then drags it up my stomach to briefly cup my chest. I’ve no bulk or real muscle, so he’s cupping air, but for some reason the feel of it makes me groan, even as I copy him.

Zee’s stomach is hard with muscle and her breast is soft and hot and so fucking good in my hand, less than a handful but that just means her nipple slides against the sensitive skin of my palm, making us both moan almost simultaneously.

“John,” she breathes, and I look up to study her face. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and her mouth is open just a little bit, and she looks like all the things you always hope porn will be but it never is.

I lick my lips, ask, “What do you want?” in a voice that sounds exactly as desperate as it should.

“Rub,” she says, and I can’t see in the dark but I just know she won’t be blushing, because Zee knows what she wants and isn’t ashamed to ask for it even a little. “Press but don’t pinch.”

I do as I’m told, rolling her nipple gently between my thumb and forefinger, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort right up until Nick copies and I have to close my eyes for a moment.

“Pinch,” I say, pressing my chest up into his hands. “I’m not that sensitive. Pinch hard.”

“What do you think, Princess?” Nick asks, clearly trying for conversational and coming out turned way the fuck on. “Do I treat him gentle like the good boy he’s trying to be, or rough like the slut he clearly is?”

“No reason he can’t be both,” Zee says, arching her back and making her nipple shift against my hand. “Give him what he wants.”

I just barely manage not to pinch Zee’s nipple painfully when Nick does the same to me, keeping my touch gentle by will-power alone as I press back against Nick’s body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “fuck I gotta feel…”

I nod, no idea what I’m agreeing too, and then moan my approval when he slides his cock between my cheeks to rub along my cleft. I rut back against him on instinct and he groans and licks a long wet stripe up the back of my neck.

He grinds against me twice while I can do nothing but pant and take it and dream a little of having heating and time and lube. Then he stills, plastered against my back and pinches my nipple hard. “You paying attention, Johnny boy?”

I moan, embarrassingly high, and slam my hips back against his, cock twitching and dribbling precome at the nickname. No way could Nick have known what it means to me, but that doesn’t make it any less hot. Like I said, all my worst kinks go straight back to my childhood in ways I try not to think about.

“Mmmmm, you like being our boy John?” Zee asks. “You going to be our good boy?”

That’s not what kink Nick just accidentally stepped on, but it’s hot as fuck so I don’t bother correcting her, just nod, squeezing her boob what I hope is gently enough.

“Yeah he is,” Nick says, kissing my neck just to the left of my spine. “And that’s why he’s paying close attention, isn’t that right Johnny boy?”

The instinct to answer with an obedient ‘yes Nick’ is there, but I don’t think Nick plays that way, not really, and I don’t want to put myself into a headspace they’re not prepared to deal with, so I just nod again.

Nick’s “Good” is said right against my ear, making me twitch for the tickle of it, and then his hand is cupping the boob I don’t have again (still hot, still not going to think about why, at least not until Zee’s picked out a corset for me) and sliding back down my torso to cup my balls.

I copy him, trailing a hand teasingly down Zee’s body to cup her cunt, sliding the very tips of my fingers between her thighs so that I feel her clit against the ball of my hand.

Zee makes a low pleased noise and Nick says, “That’s it, get her nice and warmed up.”

Zee snorts. “You sound like bad porn, Nick.”

“He sounds like excellent porn,” I argue, as coherently as I can with his wrist brushing my hard cock and the tips of his fingers pressing teasingly against the sensitive spot behind my balls. “But I’d rather you tell me what you want.”

Zee strokes my cheek with her free hand, and I try not to whimper when I smell her juices on her fingers. “Sweet boy,” she purrs, and presses her fingers against my mouth. “Suck, and rub me a little with your hand. Tease me.”

I have to close my eyes and shudder through a wave of want before I can obey, sucking three of her fingers into my mouth to the second knuckle, working them a little with my tongue just to make sure she’s thinking of what we can have once the heating’s back on, and tucking my thumb against my palm so that the knuckle slides against her clit when I move my hand.

She moans, low and throaty, and presses against me. “That’s it, that’s good. Nick, he’s being so good. Touch him.”

Nick chuckles, soft and really fucking distracting with his breath tickling against my neck, and rolls my balls, sending a wave of diffuse pleasure rolling through me.

I run my tongue between Zee’s middle and ring finger and suck in hard pulses, trying to tell her without words that I’m ready for more right fucking now.

Either she understands or she was thinking the same thing because she rolls her hips and orders, “More,” and me and Nick both comply.

I move my hand, trailing my fingers over her entrance as I move them up to stroke over her clit. My hand is sopping wet with her juices and it slides slick and smooth against her. Some girls I’ve known prefer it dryer, like the friction, but Zee groans and arches luxuriously at the touch.

Nick lets go of my balls and grabs my cock, his hand scalding hot after nothing but stray touches, and slides his thumb over the head, spreading the slick of precome around in slow circles that make me shudder. He starts moving his hips, slow juddering thrusts in time with the movement of his hand, and I can’t keep sucking, have to open my mouth and pant around Zee’s fingers.

“Faster,” she orders, and I rub faster at her clit at the same time as Nick speeds up his thrusts against me. He moves his thumb from the head of my cock, getting a proper grip and starting to jack me loosely in time to his movements.

Zee pulls her wet fingers out of my mouth and I tip my head back against Nick’s shoulder, loving the stretch and the way it pulls everything tight, makes me aware of every panted breath even with most of my attention fixed on Zee and her hot wet cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Nick gasps out, shoving his cock against me hard enough that his catches on my rim, makes me gasp and arch at the unexpected sensation. “God John, your neck!”

His hands tightens on my cock, making strokes that had been teasing suddenly overwhelmingly good, and I can only groan out something that sounds like agreement.

“Oh fuck, I gotta… John, breathplay?”

Zee gasps and shudders as I lose my rhythm, the calluses on the tips of my fingers sliding hard across her clit, and I nod.

“Zee, can you…? Do you mind…?” Nick’s tripping over his words like I’ve never heard him do before, and it sends a jolt of lust through me to know that I did that to him.

“As long as he can still get me off,” Zee says, her hand covering mine for a moment.

“Can you?” Nick asks, stilling his hips for a moment.

“I think so,” I tell him, honestly. I’ve never tried before, but after the practise I got with Roni my hands will probably move on instinct, and if they don’t, Zee can always just hold them still and ride them. Fuck I want that. “Let’s find out.”

There’s a horrible moment of transition where the only thing touching my skin is the damp air under the bedclothes, and then Zee’s hand wraps round me, her fingers slick with her own juices. Nick’s hand comes up to cup my throat, big and hot, and then he moves it to press down on the hollow where my collar bones meet.

The noise I make is high and desperate and my fingers scrabble for a moment against the lips of Zee’s cunt before I figure out how to actually control them while she and Nick squeeze my brains out through my cock. I slide two fingers over her clit, careful as I can manage.

“Is it working?” Nick asks Zee, pressing a little harder on my throat in that borderline painful way I know I shouldn’t love.

“He’s getting there,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. I’m so fucking grateful to her for just… being her. Being this strange wonderful person who can look at me and see someone she wants, even when I’m getting choked and I’m one hard thrust away from having a cock in my arse.

I do my best to focus on her, to push away my own body and concentrate on hers. Nick wraps his hand around my throat, but he seems to be just using it to hold me in place for his thrusts, not squeezing yet, and Zee’s stroking me too slow and too gentle to really work. I’ve got enough working brain cells to watch Zee’s face as I experiment, find the touch that makes her writhe, mouth falling open in silent pleasure.

I rub quick and light, just brushing her clit, and do my best to ignore my cock screaming at me about how good she feels. I want to watch her come, more than anything, and Nick must too because he slows down, watches her.

She makes these gorgeous little noises, not quite moans but too many notes to just be gasps, so quiet you have to strain to hear her, and her eyes keep fluttering shut.

Nick presses a kiss to the side of my neck, whispers “To be continued”, and reaches over me to cup her boob, thumb rubbing against her nipple in the same rhythm I’m using on her clit.

Her hips are moving, grinding tight little circles against my hand that make me imagine what it’ll feel like when she’s finally inside me, and then she lets go of my cock to grab my wrist, holding my hand in place as she throws her head back in a silent yell of pleasure as she comes.

It takes a few seconds before she opens her eyes and lets got of my wrist, and my cock is yelling at me through all of them, but I don’t care. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I would happily give up orgasms in exchange for just being allowed to watch her.

“You good, Princess?” Nick asks her, when she’s back with us.

She grins at us both. “Very. He wasn’t lying about being good with his hands.”

“Time for a reward then,” Nick says, wrapping his hand loosely around my throat, and pressing a quick kiss to the soft skin behind my ear. “You know, I don’t even have this kink. There’s just… something about you.”

“Some about me that makes you want to strangle me?” Obviously I don’t object in the slightest, but I can’t resist teasing a little.

“Must be your natural charm,” Nick says dryly, softening his words with a kiss to the skin just above where his thumb is resting. “You okay with this?”

“Assuming you’re actually going to do something and not just tease me, absolutely.”

“Slut,” he says affectionately, and lets go of my throat to grab my arse. For I moment I’m disappointed, but he just holds me spread while he shifts up the bed, arranging us so his cock is slanted down, the tip just brushing my balls, and then brings it back to my throat. I can smell his precome on his hand, and that shouldn’t be hot except that it’s Nick bloody Necro, hard and wanting me, and I still can’t believe I get to have that.

He thrusts down at the same time as his hand tightens and I groan and grind back against him. Fuck he feels so good, hot and hard, sending sparks of pleasure through me every time he presses wet and shocking against my balls.

My cock is straining, slick with precome, but every time I try and reach for it, Nick tightens his hand and I have to grab onto the blankets just to have something solid to grip as my whole world tilts sideways. Fuck, I’d somehow forgotten how overwhealming this is, or maybe it’s just more intense because it’s Nick, because of all the emotions I’m not going to put a name to on our first night together.

I manage to force my eyes open long enough to see Zee watching us, eyes glittering in the half light, and then Nick figures out how to position his hand so that his thumb and the ball of his hand are pressing on my arteries, restricting bloodflow as much as air, and I can’t focus on anything except grinding back into Nick’s hard thrusts.

I try to yell in shock when I feel a hand on my cock, but I haven’t got the air for it, and it comes out weak and breathy, barely loud enough for me to hear over the pounding in my ears.

“Nick,” Zee says, voice gentle, and Nick groans what sounds like protest and loosens his grip on my throat long enough for me to draw an unexpected breath at the same time as Zee tightens her grip on my cock just enough to be perfect.

This time I do yell, loud enough that I probably woke up everyone else in the building, but I don’t care because everything feels so fuck good, hard and painful and overwhealming enough to be everything I want. Nick’s cock has got to be sore from the dry friction, but he’s not slowing down, and every time his cock rubs against my hole I clench and grind back against him. Zee’s barely jacking me, just holding her hand still and tight around me, letting me fuck up into her grip. It’s pulling my foreskin nearly enough to be painful, but right now that’s just adding another layer of blinding pleasure.

I pant five, six desperate breaths and then Nick’s hand is back, crushing my voice box a little and pinching off my airways.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pressing his mouth to my neck in something too wet and sloppy to be a kiss. “Fuck, John. Shit you’re so… Christ Jonny-boy, you’re going to make me come!”

That’s it, that endearment coupled with the pain and the pleasure and their wonderful hands tips me over the edge, using up my last precious reserves of air to shout something that could be their names or could be how fucking much I love them as I come over Zee’s hard hand, body shuddering with the force of my pleasure.

Nick lets go of my throat in favour of my grabbing my hair, tugging my head round enough for a sloppy kiss, teeth and tongues and slick hot uncordination.

“So fucking hot,” he says, driving his cock against my balls hard enough that I’d yell again if I wasn’t so desperate to hear him talk. I’m over sensitized, even gentle touches bordering on too much, but in that moment I’d have taken a red hot poker up the jacksie if it meant more of this. “God, John you have no idea. We’ve been talking about you for so fucking long, I can’t believe…” He trails off, presses his fair to my hair. Secret romantic, like Zee said.

“John,” Zee purrs, distracting me before I can do anything stupid like declare my undying love or propose, “You’ve got a promise to keep.”

“Anything you want, Princess,” I tell her, and I mean every word.

“Two fingers inside me, thumb on my clit,” Zee says. “Let’s see how fast you can make me come. If I get off before Nick does, I’ll fuck you in my dressing room before the show tomorrow.”

I swear as my cock makes a desperate attempt to get hard again. It’s way too early, the sudden rush of blood more painful than good, and I grind back against Nick to distract myself.

“Thought you wanted to get fucked, Jonny-boy,” he groans, and I force myself still as I reach for Zee.

She’s dripping wet from her last orgasm, and she opens up so easy when I gently press a finger into her. I wish I had a hand free to grab my own cock, but I’m not going to do anything that means I have to give this up for even a moment.

I thrust gently and Zee grinds down against me, and says, “Two, John.”

I do as I’m told, adding a second finger and moaning at the scorching tight heat of her. I get my thumb on her clit and give in an experimental rub.

“Harder this time,” she says, and begins circling her hips, grinding her walls against my fingers in ways that make my tender cock weep.

It takes me a moment to coordinate my movements with Nick’s thrusts, which are getting rougher as he gets closer. He’s got his free hand on my hip, gripping tight enough to bruise (fuck, please be enough to bruise) and every thrust is making me shake with the force and sensation of it.

I rub Zee’s clit as quickly as I can without loosing my rhythm, and she’s quickly gasping for me, perfect lips open. She looks almost unimaginably erotic, and I do my best to commit this moment to memory. No matter what happens, I want to keep this with me forever, Nick using me even though I’m too sensitive for it too feel really good except for all the ways it feels amazing, Zee clenching almost painfully tight on my fingers as I rub fast and rough at her clit.

“I love you,” I say, too overwhealmed to keep the words inside. “Fuck, I love you both so much!”

Zee whimpers, high and sharp, grabbing my hair painfully tightly as an anchor as she shudders through her orgasm, the walls of her cunt pulsing against my fingers.

“Ours,” Nick groans out, “All ours, finally, fucking finally…” and then he stills, hand tightening on my hip enough to make me gasp as his come splashes scalding hot against my balls.

For a long moment we all just lie there, panting, Zee’s cunt still twitching around my fingers, Nick pressed up against my back.

It’s Zee who moves first, guiding my fingers out of her and then pressing close for a slow serious kiss.

“I love you too,” she says, when she pulls away. My chest aches like she’s taken a part of my soul with her. “We both do.”

“I’m too sticky and tired to me romantic,” Nick says, “And if I roll you over so I can kiss you we’re never going to get these sheets clean, but I’d be happy doing this for… for a long fucking time.”

“Till death do us part?” Zee suggests, and I can hear the tease in her voice but I still have to bite back tears. I don’t deserve this, I never expected or planned for this, and now suddenly I’ve got everything I want.

She at least doesn’t see my moment of loss of control because she’s rolling over to grope in the top drawer of her bedside table. After a moment she rolls back, holding a packet of baby wipes triumphantly.

“John, you’d probably better roll onto your front and let Nick clean you up, since he’s the one who made the mess,” she says, taking two wipes out of the packet and then passing it to Nick.

I do as I’m told, and it’s a fucking weird feeling lying still while a grown man wipes my arse for me, but remembering exactly why I need cleaning up makes it a little more bearable.

Once I’m not going to drip all over the sheets he runs one of the cool wipes over my back and legs and then urges me to roll over.

I point out that I could do this part myself, but Nick ignores me, so just try not to twitch too much as he gently cleans my cock and balls.

When I’m clean (and more than a little embarrassed) he gives himself a quick clean up and passes the packet back too Zee, throwing the used wipes on the floor to (hopefully) tidy up tomorrow.

Zee replaces the wipes and then sits up to rearrange the blankets that had been shoved off by our movement. It lets a rush of cold air in, making my shiver as my damp skin chills.

She lies back down after a moment, pressing up against my side affectionately. The whole bed is one big wet spot, so I don’t feel too back that she’s lying in my cold precome.

Nick sprawls onto his stomach, one leg tangled with mine, our shoulders pressed together in a way that’s probably going to get uncomfortable really damn quickly, but for now just feels companionable.

I’m just starting to doze off when Nick asks, “So did he win the bet? I mean that was pretty much simultaneous.”

“Of course he did,” Zee says sleepily. “And even if he didn’t, I never said I wouldn’t fuck him if he didn’t manage it.”

Nick chuckles and I remind my cock that now is the time for sleeping. It can be hard tomorrow when Zee’s got me bent over her dressing table…

Trying not to get hard is a lost cause, but that’s okay. I’m safe and warm and with the two people I love most of the world. I can sleep through an erection. After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives to fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, it means the world to me


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